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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28806693">Empty Hearts Make the Most Noise</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/duplicity/pseuds/duplicity'>duplicity</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Shorter Works [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Demon Voldemort (Harry Potter), Disturbing Themes, Dubious Consent, M/M, Magic, Stockholm Syndrome, ambiguous setting, another dark era fic by yours truly, kind of? harry is there willingly lmao but he stays there a long time, monsterfucker elements, tropey shit like learning how to love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:14:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,690</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28806693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/duplicity/pseuds/duplicity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The townsfolk say an evil demon lurks in the forest beyond the hill, amongst the pines and the brambles. If you know what you want, you may strike a deal with him, but the price is high and any hesitation is deadly. </p><p>After losing both his parents in a terrible accident, a grief-stricken Harry is willing to do whatever it takes to get them back—even if it means paying with his life. Unfortunately for him, what Voldemort wants is both simpler and infinitely more complex: a heart.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Shorter Works [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975801</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>145</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Empty Hearts Make the Most Noise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/youknowmevj/pseuds/youknowmevj">youknowmevj</a> for the title!</p><p>also shoutout to Maddy who made like a dozen encouraging memes for this AU before i even posted it </p><p>no beta (sorry Coral, i'm impatient and terrible), so if i made an oopsie, i'll cry about it in private later</p><p>voldemort is creepy and touchy-feely in this one, so be warned of the dub-con! </p><p>also the setting of this story is a wobbly ball of timey wimey... therefore do not look too closely at that because i don't know when or where it takes place, either :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a place in the darkest forest where only the tormented and the desperate dared to journey to. Only those not of a sane mind would ever set foot there, for who else would visit such a sinful place? Who would willingly offer their precious humanity as a boon for a beast? For make no mistake—there was a beast. Deep in this darkest forest, buried behind the tallest conifers, lived the demon they called Voldemort.</p><p> </p><p>Some said he had pitch-black horns as large as a bull’s and sharper than any mortal knives. Some said his eyes were as red as human blood spilled upon freshly-fallen snow. Some said he was covered in thick brambles that scratched endlessly at his pale, paper-white skin, leaving droplets of blood behind wherever he went.</p><p> </p><p>Whatever the appearance of this demon, this <em> monster, </em> one consensus rang true: one only called upon Voldemort if one was prepared to die.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Harry Potter had not slept in days. He had not slept, had barely eaten or drank water, and was surely a few days away from the brink of death. Not by conscious choice—rather, this was the result of anguish, guilt, and grief.</p><p> </p><p>You see, Harry was mourning. He had lost his parents to death's clutches. He was old enough to comprehend and suffer the burden of his loss, yet was too young to understand what foolish undertaking he had committed himself to by stepping foot in this forest.</p><p> </p><p>All around him, the trees shivered and swayed. There were few creatures here, and there would be even less of them as he made his way towards the lair of the demon, Voldemort.</p><p> </p><p>Harry had heard the stories, the nightmares, the promises of sin and temptation whispered only in seedy taverns and dangerous back alleys. Harry had gotten into several spots of trouble as a result of his sneaking about; bruises and cuts littered his skin like jewellery. But what did that matter? He had uncovered the information he desired—a way to bring his parents back to him. Or, if the demon sought his life as payment, a way to bring his parents to life in his place.</p><p> </p><p>Harry held tight to the ragged pack slung over his shoulder. In this pack were his most treasured possessions. Some items of material value, some of sentimental. Gold and jewels to bargain with, and personal mementos to be used in whatever ritual the demon would require them for. A lock of his mother’s hair, her favourite perfume, and her oldest scarf. A lock of his father’s hair, his glasses, and a dog-eared copy of his favourite book.</p><p> </p><p>The Potters were not extravagantly wealthy, but they had been wealthy enough. Harry cared little for money now that his parents were gone, so he had sold everything that lacked personal value, converting it to gold. He would use the money to barter for his parents’ lives. The demon, he hoped, would accept the generous payment.</p><p> </p><p>As Harry progressed through the forest, the trees grew closer and closer together. It was difficult to navigate over the uneven ground while also shoving branches out of the way. Harry had already scratched himself on thorns and branches, and these injuries that did nothing to settle his unease. In his mind’s eye, he saw Voldemort: tall and skeletal, red eyes and pale skin, black brambles wrapped around his shoulders like a shroud.</p><p> </p><p>It was uncertain if Voldemort took the shape of a man or not. Those few who had lived to speak on their ordeals spoke only in generalities; the most prominent impression by far had been <em>fear.</em></p><p> </p><p>Harry was not afraid of dying. He was not afraid of suffering pain, of losing his life while surrounded by darkness. What he did fear was failure. If Voldemort refused him, bade him to leave this place, Harry would not last the night. He could not bear it, to chase the impossible even further than he already had. His grief would destroy him.</p><p> </p><p>So Harry was prepared to strike a deal and give Voldemort whatever he wanted. He was determined to see this through to the bitter end.</p><p> </p><p>A chill settled over him, clinging to his exposed skin like heavy morning dew. The forest was damp and silent; the faint noises of small creatures and insects had faded away some time ago. Up ahead was a clearing. On the other side of this clearing, he had been told, was a cave.</p><p> </p><p>Harry forced his way through several more collisions with branches and staggered out into the open space. Night had fallen at some point, which was odd and disorienting on its own. Had he been wandering through his forest for so many hours that the day had slipped into night so soon?</p><p> </p><p>Harry's glasses were beginning to fog. He itched to tug them off and wipe them on his shirt, but to cripple himself at this juncture would be unimaginably foolish. So instead he soldiered on, stepping through the tall, wet grass and keeping his eyes peeled for any signs of movement.</p><p> </p><p>People who visited this place with the intention of killing the monster who lived here, they never made it out alive. Their weapons were found abandoned at the edge of the forest, bloody and rusted, leaving no doubt that their owners were no longer in the world of the living.</p><p> </p><p>Harry had not made that mistake; he was armed with nothing, not even a pocket knife, and this was why he had struggled so much with the forest and its undergrowth.</p><p> </p><p>The air grew colder, the atmosphere made more sinister by the lack of light and sound. Harry could hear his own breaths—too loud, too desperate, too indicative of his vulnerability. Though he was not afraid of death or violence, he still felt fear. This environment curated fear, coaxed it to life within him like an ember sparking to flames.</p><p> </p><p>Harry’s breath froze in his throat as he at last spotted the cave across the clearing. The darkness of the entrance was hardly distinguishable from the rocks and cliff face surrounding it. He could only hope that Voldemort was there, awake, and willing to accept visitors. </p><p> </p><p>Harry opened his mouth to speak, found his mouth dry and his lips cracked. He licked them once, cursing his own idiocy. He should have brought water. After several attempts at clearing his throat, he thought that he could speak.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello?” he called out, watching as the word expanded into a puff of condensation in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>Silence answered. Harry crept forward, crunching pebbles and twigs under his boots as he made his way towards the looming entrance.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello?” he repeated, willing his voice not to fail him. “Voldemort?”</p><p> </p><p>This time, a voice responded; there was a soft, sibilant hum coming from all sides, wrapping Harry up in wispy threads of sound. It was a warm feeling that surrounded him, banishing the cold touch of the forest. It prodded at his arms and chest like a curious child.</p><p> </p><p>Harry could hear the voice echoing in his head like it was in there, like it was <em> in his head, </em> and he wanted it out but he wanted his parents back, he wanted that more than anything—</p><p> </p><p>Harry held very still, squashing his instinct to flee, and allowed the presence to wash over him.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Little one,” </em> murmured the voice, detached but not, disembodied but… also not. <em> “What brings you to my domain?” </em></p><p> </p><p>Harry was not afraid. As he peered into the darkness of the cave, he could make out a hint of ruby red peering back at him. “I’m here to make a deal with you,” Harry croaked out. “My—”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Your parents are dead.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Harry felt the familiar burn of tears in his eyes, the hoarse pain in the back of his throat. Yes, they were dead. This demon was mocking him because of it, but that was alright. Harry would cry if that was what Voldemort wanted to see. He would let this demon bathe in the tears of his misery if it meant that James and Lily Potter could live.</p><p> </p><p>Voldemort made a thoughtful sound. <em> “Brave child. Come closer.” </em></p><p> </p><p>The warm presence departed, withdrawing from Harry and slipping back into the cave. Harry swallowed around the dryness in his mouth and took a few stumbling steps towards the gleaming red eyes. “I brought payment,” Harry stuttered. “I have plenty of gold, and my mother’s jewelry. You can have all of it, if you like—”</p><p> </p><p><em> “Foolish,” </em> rumbled Voldemort. <em> “I have no need for riches.” </em></p><p> </p><p>This was not what Harry had wanted to hear. Many people had crawled into this cave only to be told that payment would be required in the form of a large sum of money. Others had paid higher tolls, unspeakable ones. Failure was met with death or worse. The corpses of Voldemort’s victims lay abandoned in the strangest of places: draped over the church fence, washed up along the river bank, or buried halfway into the ground on the outskirts of town.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps Harry would be one of them.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want?” Harry asked. “I can get you something else, I could steal something for you—”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Human child, what I want from you cannot be bought or stolen.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Harry repressed a shudder at that. Some people had been forced to sacrifice parts of themselves or forced to take the lives of others. If this was a case of the latter, Harry was unsure he could stomach it. To kill someone was a task beyond his capabilities. He was not a killer, he could never take an innocent life.</p><p> </p><p>Footsteps drifted towards Harry. He could make out the silhouette of a tall, humanoid form.</p><p> </p><p><em> “But what of a guilty one?” </em> asked Voldemort.</p><p> </p><p>Harry’s lips flattened out. Voldemort was reading his thoughts. Perhaps Harry could kill a guilty man if his hand was forced, but he would loathe every second, hating himself all the while.</p><p> </p><p>Voldemort laughed. It was rich, charming. Gone was the sibilant accent of before; now there was only the gorgeous sound of joy ringing in Harry’s ears.</p><p> </p><p>“Your heart is pure,” Voldemort murmured, “so very sweet and untainted.”</p><p> </p><p>There was no light here. There was only what little moonlight could reach in from the outside. Harry had not moved since he had entered the cave, but now Voldemort was rapidly approaching, moving with a silent grace that should not have been possible. Too soon, a slender, skeletal hand rose into Harry’s line of sight. It pressed against the soft flesh beneath his chin, the sharp nail of an index finger digging in. Harry wondered if the nail was sharp enough to draw blood. If it was, would he feel it?</p><p> </p><p>“Can you guess what I desire from you, innocent one?”</p><p> </p><p>Harry could not, and he hoped that this demon would not make him speak that fact aloud.</p><p> </p><p>“Decades have passed since I first came to rest in this forest,” Voldemort said in a wistful tone. His hand dropped from Harry’s face to rest delicately on his collarbone instead. “In that time, I have interacted with your kind many times. I studied them with care. I learned their deepest fears, woken their primal urges, dragged them into the filth they thought themselves above. All of this knowledge exists within me, yet there is one further notion I have yet to grasp.”</p><p> </p><p>What did Voldemort not understand about human nature? Harry tried to think what this could possibly be. After so many years, Voldemort must have learned everything there was to know about humans. What subject remained unknown? If there was a god watching over Harry, it would be something simple.</p><p> </p><p>Voldemort hummed loudly enough for Harry to feel the vibration of it. There was definitely an undercurrent of amusement running through the sound. “Oh, I do think it will be quite simple,” he said.</p><p> </p><p>A faint glow expanded from somewhere beyond, drenching the cave in light. It illuminated Voldemort enough for Harry to at last view the demon’s form.</p><p> </p><p>Voldemort appeared more human than Harry had expected him to be. His body was dressed in an elegant black robe with a thick sash around the waist. All of the body parts were correct—two arms, two legs, hips and waist and torso, head and neck. Voldemort was, however, several heads taller than Harry was, and his arms and legs were long and slender, stretched beyond the regular proportions of a human being.</p><p> </p><p>Another notable difference lay with Voldemort’s inhuman facial features: shining red irises, serpentine slits for nostrils, and a thin, nearly-lipless mouth. Voldemort had no hair, no brows, but he did possess high cheekbones that hollowed beneath at a painful angle. Had Voldemort been human, not a demon, the townswomen might have called this face handsome.</p><p> </p><p>“Have your expectations been met?” Voldemort drawled, startling Harry from his examination. At this distance, the tenor of Voldemort’s voice was a clear baritone, his words like music.</p><p> </p><p>Harry flushed. His instinct was to drop his gaze, but that would do him no favours here. “Ask your price, sir.”</p><p> </p><p>At the formal address, Voldemort’s mouth stretched into a delighted smile of pointed teeth. “What I want from you, sweetling, is your <em> heart.” </em></p><p> </p><p>“My heart?” Harry repeated, startled. Automatically, his hand rose to cover his chest, his palm resting over the spot where his beating heart lay.</p><p> </p><p>Voldemort’s hand followed, pressing down over Harry’s like a metal trap. The touch was strangely warm. “A treat such as this… I shall carve it out myself,” Voldemort promised kindly. “It will be quick, painless. A mercy for you, who I find to be worthy of such a death.”</p><p> </p><p>The promise of a painless death was ideal. Harry was tempted to give in, to permit this creature to take and take and take, to pillage his body of flesh and bone until there was nothing left of him. To end his life, and with it all of his agony.</p><p> </p><p>“What will you do with my heart?” Harry asked, morbidly curious.</p><p> </p><p>Red eyes shone with fervor. “Examine it. Uncover the meaning of human love, of affection.” Voldemort leant in, hot breath fanning over the left side of Harry’s face, tickling his jaw. The demon’s voice was a low purr as he said, “I shall draw upon the blood that flows through its chambers and taste your love for myself.” Then Harry felt Voldemort’s lips against the lobe of his ear, soft and slightly damp. There was the faint scrape of teeth against the sensitive skin there. “Will it taste as sweet as the rest of you?”</p><p> </p><p>Harry shivered and closed his eyes. He did not think he would taste sweet, but perhaps to Voldemort, human flesh as much of a delicacy as the most honeyed pastry.</p><p> </p><p>Voldemort lifted his head away. Harry did not dare breathe, not until Voldemort’s imposing presence faded away entirely. </p><p> </p><p>“Have I stolen your voice as well?” Voldemort asked. He sounded pleased. That was good, wasn’t it, for Voldemort to be pleased? “Open your eyes. Let me see those lovely shades of green.”</p><p> </p><p>With reluctance, Harry opened them. Voldemort was watching with such intent, like he was intent on devouring Harry. Which he was, in a way. Harry’s heart would be forfeit to bring the Potters back to life.</p><p> </p><p>“Lovely,” Voldemort affirmed, and bent his head once more. His tongue licked over the seam of Harry’s mouth, the forked tip curling under the fullness of his bottom lip. Harry could not help his confusion—a panicked noise escaped him as his body careened backwards out of shock.</p><p> </p><p>Voldemort seized him and jerked him upright, his expression now quite serious. Harry blinked rapidly, disoriented. Then he licked at his lips, tracing over the places where—where Voldemort’s tongue had touched him. The memory felt strange. Voldemort's touch had not quite been like a kiss.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Enough teasing.” </em> There was a cold edge to Voldemort’s words, now. “Your heart for the lives of your parents. A generous offer that you would be wise to take.”</p><p> </p><p>“I—” Harry lifted a hand to his glasses, adjusting them in a futile attempt to regain control over his situation. Unfortunately, Voldemort’s face did not grow clearer or more human. Voldemort was what the townsfolk called a monster, a demon, a plague upon the earth. He did not understand love, and the extent of his ignorance was such that he believed the answer could be found in devouring Harry’s heart—a heart Voldemort had declared to be pure and virtuous.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?” Voldemort said, impatient. “Give me your answer.”</p><p> </p><p>“You want to learn about love,” Harry said. To Voldemort’s narrowed eyes, he added quickly, “The knowledge you want, it can’t be learned through consuming a heart. You can’t <em> take </em> a heart, that isn’t how it works.”</p><p> </p><p>Voldemort seized Harry’s jaw with a painful grip. This time, Harry was certain those sharp nails had drawn blood. <em> “If you lie to me, I will know.” </em></p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t. I want my parents to live,” Harry placated. “I do, you can read it in my mind—”</p><p> </p><p>The hand relaxed and dropped away, but the suspicion in Voldemort’s eyes remained. “How do you propose we continue, then?”</p><p> </p><p>How would they continue? Harry had been prepared to die here, but now that the option was available to him, he found it wasn’t what he wanted. He did not want to die knowing that his parents would be subject to the whims of a demon who knew nothing of love.</p><p> </p><p>“I can teach you,” Harry blurted out. “I can… I can tell you stories about love. Real stories you won’t hear from the people who tend to visit you. I can tell you about how love works until you understand it.”</p><p> </p><p>Voldemort said nothing for the longest time, his sharp gaze raking lines over Harry’s face. He was deep in though, or so Harry hoped, because the alternative was that he had angered this demon and would lose all that he had sought to gain.</p><p> </p><p>“Very well,” said Voldemort. “I accept your offer. When I am satisfied with what I have learned from you, I will restore your parents to life. They will remain alive and unharmed by myself. Do we have a deal?” The demon extended a hand, long fingers stretching across the space between them.</p><p> </p><p>Harry shook it firmly. “We do.”</p><p> </p><p>The path ahead would be difficult, but if he succeeded, the rewards would far outweigh the risks.</p><p> </p><p>As their hands separated, Harry released a shaky breath and cast his eyes around the dimly-lit cave. Now their agreement was made, Harry would have to provide his end of the bargain. But before that, he would have to return to the nearest town and rent a room to stay in.</p><p> </p><p>The idea of walking back through the forest at this hour sounded like hell. Harry’s fatigue was crashing down upon him in great waves. The adrenaline and determination that had kept him upright throughout this encounter was quickly fading. Harry felt as if his body was falling to pieces.</p><p> </p><p>Voldemort scoffed. “You will stay here.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry wanted to protest this. How would they live in this cave together? But truthfully, he was tired, his legs weakening with each passing moment, and if he stayed here tonight, he could recuperate enough to leave in the morning.</p><p> </p><p>“Come.” Voldemort gestured for Harry to approach him.</p><p> </p><p>Was he about to do magic? Harry was admittedly interested in seeing how that worked. So he took two steps forward, and no sooner had he done so than did Voldemort wrap long arms around his body and hoist him into the air.</p><p> </p><p>Harry shrieked as his center of gravity was forcibly relocated. “Put me down!” He was being held bridal style, his calves dangling awkwardly over the crook of Voldemort’s left arm, his upper torso cradled against Voldemort’s chest and shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>“You do yourself no favours with your protest. If you waste away, you will fail to provide me what I require.”</p><p> </p><p>What he <em> required</em>—what a pompous way of explaining his sense of greed and entitlement.</p><p> </p><p>The arm wrapped around Harry’s back tightened in warning. “I would watch yourself,” Voldemort commented idly. </p><p> </p><p>“Can you always read my mind?” Harry demanded in irritation.</p><p> </p><p>Voldemort ignored this and walked them to the back of the cave. A single torch on the left wall flickered to life, revealing a flat stretch of stone that signified a dead end.</p><p> </p><p>“Hold still.” Voldemort adjusted his grip on Harry, shifting a majority of the weight to one arm, then gestured quickly with his other hand.</p><p> </p><p>Stone and rock melted away, revealing a plain wooden door built into a decorative archway. Through the door they went, with Voldemort taking care not to bash Harry’s head against the door frame.</p><p> </p><p>“You have neither eaten food nor drank water. You have not slept. You will stay here until you have recovered enough that you will not collapse before me.”</p><p> </p><p>Fine. This was acceptable if only because there was no logical reason for Harry to argue against it. Also perhaps because he was too exhausted to do so—further proving Voldemort’s point.</p><p> </p><p>Beyond the door was a lair. Harry hardly had time to take it all in because Voldemort moved them through quickly, then deposited Harry onto what could only be described as a nest of blankets. “Are all these yours?” Harry asked dubiously, giving the spread a distracted pat.</p><p> </p><p>Voldemort placed his large hand upon Harry’s head and gave it a firm nudge. “Sleep, sweet one. In the morning, I will expect you to deliver on your promise.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry was not sleepy. His body was exhausted, but his mind was alive, perfectly awake. He would have liked to look around this new place, to see where it was that this demon lived.</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately for Harry, upon hearing Voldemort’s request, a heavy weight settled on his brain, shoving at his consciousness until it splintered and flattened out like a wooden shack hit by a windstorm. Harry yawned loudly, his eyelids falling shut, and curled onto the soft pile of fabric to sleep.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>find me &amp; my writing updates on tumblr <a href="https://duplicitywrites.tumblr.com">here</a>!</p><p> </p><p>feel free to join my personal discord server for my writing <a href="https://discord.gg/BJRP4A5">here</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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